There was a party at my house when I was seven. My mom and dad were busy, but I was hungry. Not wanting to bother them, I decided to make my own microwave ramen noodles.
I knew that my mom didn’t add the pack of veggies, so I left them out. In the directions, adding the veggies and adding water were in the same step. My seven-year-old brain thought, “You only need the water for the vegetables,” so I didn’t add any water.
I put it in the microwave and waited for it to be done. All of a sudden, the microwave was on fire and smoke was filling the kitchen.
The fire department ending up coming and in the end, we had to get a new microwave, oven, and kitchen cabinets.
(This is a story my sister told me about when her oldest daughter was still a toddler and her mother would always say, “We’re going bye-bye!” whenever she went shopping. Any other time — like going to work — she had an agreement with our mother for her to watch my niece since they lived with her. One winter, a major snowstorm passes through the area, making the roads dangerous. Her husband — a policeman — advises her to stay home from work, and she does. The following is the conversation she has with her daughter that day.)
Daughter: *upon seeing her mother, not Grandma, enter the room* “Mommy go work?”
Sister: “No, Mommy’s not going to work today.”
Daughter: *looks from her mother, to the window, and then back again with a huge grin* “Mommy go BYE-BYE?”
(I am using the restroom at a department store. The only other people around are a man and his three-year-old son who are wrapping up their business.)
Man: “Now we have to wash our hands.”
Boy: “I didn’t pee on mine.”
(A woman and her young daughter are looking at an advertisement for ebooks. The girl looks about nine years old.)
Daughter: “Oh, look, mom! They have Life of Pi!”
Mother: “What’s that?”
Daughter: “It’s a movie. They have a book version of it now!”
Mother: “Oh, okay.”
Daughter: “Yeah, I liked it. It was really funny. But serious, too! But funny. But serious.”
(I have reached home after class and as my parents have gone to an aunt’s house, I try to use my key on the door. Our house has two front doors, and as I try to open the door with the key I have, it turns out to be bolted from the inside. Usually, when my parents won’t be home at the time I return, they unbolt the door and leave through the other door. Now, apparently, they’ve left through the main door and forgot to unbolt my door. Forced to wait out in the sweltering heat, I try calling my parents and leave about six missed calls — petty, I know, but I just hate being locked out. With no answers, I finally text my brother.)
Me: “Don’t Mom and Dad have their phones on them?”
Brother: “They must have, why?”
Me: “I’ve been trying to call them for a long time and they’re not answering.”
Brother: “What’s wrong?”
(I’m tired of waiting outside and just want to make sure they haven’t left a key of the other door for me.)
Me: “The door’s bolted. Can you please tell them to call me?”
Brother: “Did you try ringing the doorbell?”
(I was about to type an annoyed reply when realization struck me. The front door opened and my brother was waiting with a smug grin. He had said that he wouldn’t be going with them but I had completely forgotten. An hour later, I had to explain to my worried dad why I’d left him six missed calls while he was taking a nap. I learned not to fly off the handle like that again.)
